


bite marks & bruises

by Skullszeyes



Series: Touch Of Salvation [5]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alone, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Reminiscing, waking up alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 04:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Yata wakes alone after Saruhiko left.





	bite marks & bruises

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. I wanted to write this idea quickly, but my depression really did not want me to write. It took some time to figure this out and to at least grasp for some energy besides wanting to sleep. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciative.

Yata checked his phone when he woke up. Squinting at the time, and realized it’s only been an hour since Saruhiko left. Sometimes he didn’t wake up this early, but he didn’t mind now that he was alone without Saruhiko making his mood sour. 

There were pros and cons to waking up with Saruhiko. And when they were younger, there were a lot more pros than cons. They’d wake up around the same time, or Yata would sometimes wake up before Saruhiko and either dig in his fridge, or whisper to Saruhiko to wake up. While when Saruhiko woke up before him, Yata would feel an arm across his stomach, fingers on his side, bringing him closer, or in other times, he’d wake up and see Saruhiko watching him.

Yata sat up in the bed, pushing back his messy red strands and glance to the side where Saruhiko was previously lying in. 

As they got older, Yata no longer slept at Saruhiko’s place. They’re tempers rose too high, and there were parts of them that were too sensitive to touch at close range. Saruhiko used those vulnerabilities to get under Yata’s skin. He hated that, it was a knife that would cut deep, and it would take awhile for Yata to get over it. And Saruhiko would smile smugly at him, knowing he had done something he could never take back. 

He reveled in it. 

Yata looked down at his chest, blinking, before crawling to the edge of the bed and looking for his red tank-top he had worn last night. His face warmed as he found it lying on the floor, and he reached out and grasped it in his hand. Pulling back, he scowled at himself, and at Saruhiko. 

“Fucking idiot,” Yata muttered, getting up from the bed and walking across the room to the doorway. The apartment was dark as he found the bathroom, flicking the light on. He stepped in front of the mirror and breathed hard when all he could see were red and blue blemishes along his neck, collarbone, his shoulders, and even lower.

He grazed them with the tips of his fingers while his heart raced heavily inside his chest. There was no rise of anger inside of him. It wasn’t why he barged his way into Saruhiko’s apartment and slept in his bed. 

He didn’t mind sleepless nights, or even if the late night bothered Saruhiko at all. He didn’t mind the knives between them, the blood, the revenge, the guilt. He knew how Saruhiko was, and it was only a matter of time until Saruhiko realizes the truth. The marks on his neck were evident of that. 

He came here for exactly what he wanted, and speaking it out loud was too embarrassing. Yata washed his face and reentered the bedroom where he dropped the red shirt in the laundry basket sitting on the side of the wall. He glanced around before finding a blue loose shirt inside of Saruhiko’s dresser. He pulls it on and it’s baggy on him, but it looks good with the red sweater he had brought with him. 

Yata sits back down on the bed. A silent gnawing inside of his body, clawing against his skin. A tentative prodding, gentle, and once would be considered unnerving if Yata hadn’t confronted the issue before. 

It’s impulsive, ravaged by thought and feeling. 

He lies back onto the bed, pulling the blue shirt up by the collar and closing his eyes, taking in the warm linen smell that came from the fabric. 

He came here and now he has what he wanted.

It’s not a lie.

It’s not a pressure in itself when Saruhiko had brought him close in the dark, and swallowed him whole, drinking in the desperate moans, and scraping teeth against fading marks. 

Yata lets go of the fabric and stared at the dim ceiling. He should feel embarrassed, but he already got used to this a long time ago. When he tried it before, when his cheeks were warm, and his words sputtered from his bitten mouth. He had told the truth in aching words, fumbling clothes, and fingers that pressed too hard into the skin that dragged Saruhiko back.

He could keep a piece of him secured around him, on him, a mark and a reminder of possession that they both craved. He would not deny Saruhiko the realization when it was right in front of his face, and Yata would not deny the memory of the desperation that forced him to his knees, where the words were soft in the silence between them, and the comfort of blankets that surrounded their bodies. 

There was a book he had read about a man telling a woman that he wasn’t good for her, that there would be someone out there in the world that would be better. That would kiss her right, treat her right, talk and spend every waking hour with her better than he could. That whoever that man in the world would be, could pleasure her more than he could ever, and kiss her better. 

Yata hadn’t finished the book, he had set it down with those thoughts in mind. Whatever he and Saruhiko had, he knew without a doubt, Saruhiko would never say something like that. He would never let him go in anyway, he would say that he was the right person to press Yata down onto the bed, that he would be better for him to love, to kiss, to pleasure in anyway they could find. Soft or hard, slow or fast. 

Saruhiko would be the one who would give Yata everything.

To Yata, Saruhiko seemed more like steel placed in flame and pressed to Yata’s skin. A reminder, a scalding one that would never leave. Persistent and puncturing. 

He didn’t think it was romantic, but nor did Saruhiko who tossed out words that hurt, and Yata threw them back. If Saruhiko were burning steel, then Yata was the one worth destroying, and that had lured in Saruhiko because he could pretend with all his organization, and pristine appearance, but he liked getting his hands dirty. 

Yata rose from the bed, grabbed his things he had discarded when he first arrived and headed for the front door to the apartment. 

He gave one last look to the apartment, and knew he’d be back. 

A promise born from bite marks and bruises.

Yata smiled as he opened the door and stepped out of the apartment. 


End file.
